A Little Princess
by rainingslash
Summary: Twenty years into the future, what's Mia's life like now? And more interestingly, what's life like for Mia's children?
1. Volume One: The Uninvited Beginning

**A LITTLE PRINCESS**

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**Author's Note: **This story assumes that PD10 took place in 2008. _The story itself is set in 2028._ There are **spoilers from PD10**, if you haven't read it yet you should probably clear off.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Meg Cabot's. Don't sue.

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"_For now, I guess I'll settle for what I've got. Because it's actually a lot, now that I think about it." – HRH Amelia Renaldo_

Volume One: The Uninvited Beginning

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**Friday, August 28****th****, Royal Bedchamber, Genovia**

Thank _God_ for Grandpere. That's all I can say. Seriously, it's about time someone was on _my _side. You know, apart from old Grandmere Clarisse who Dad totally doesn't listen to.

But, whatever.

Maybe Grandpere can talk him into considering my human rights which are obviously being grossly violated right now. I am seriously THIS close to calling Aunt Lilly. She wouldn't stand for this. Oh no, making people leave their country to go to some American school for four years because their father thinks you need to be more well rounded and adjusted to different ways of life and that you need to learn your own insignificance in this big world.

No.

Aunt Lilly would not stand for this. She'd publicly humiliate him on her show, which is like the most watched talk-show in the world since Oprah retired (about fifteen years too late according to Grandmere Clarisse). Whatever, Dad. I _so _am well rounded. I am totally friends with French _and _Italian people. Oh yeah, AND HALF MY RELATIVES ARE FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY AND ARE JEWISH!!!!! I mean, I am like, the most well rounded person in Genovia. Along with my sister, Emily, and my brother, Nicholas. But I am totally older than them and Nicky is still mastering speech, so I win.

And I am extremely aware of my own insignificance. Let's review, shall we:

1. I am heir to the throne of a small principality. Which might be deemed a good thing if not for the fact that the reigning monarch (since Grandpere abdicated three years ago so he could spend all his time playing golf and taking day trips to France), is the most popular royal EVER. No, seriously. Princess Diana, Queen Elizabeth the First … they have nothing on my mother. Everyone _loves_ her. Because she's totally saved the environment and gives heaps of money to charity and spends like, weeks at a time in Africa helping to build schools and water wells and stuff. So, _obviously_ I am aware of my own insignificance when I must constantly be thrust under the light that is my mother's aura.

2. Whilst I am not _hideous, _I am clearly some kind of physical freak of nature. I mean, my mother is way beautiful and elegant, and Dad is a total hottie – even if he is like forty-one or whatever. But somehow, I have managed to inherit neither my mother's graceful elegance, nor my father's hotness. Which is totally unfair as both Emily and Nicholas got my mother's grey eyes, and my dad's dark hair. But me, I'm just a tall, skinny, light-haired, dark-eyed, flat-chested, big nosed (something I did inherit from Dad, though it looks totally fine on him because he's a man and all burly and stuff) freak. So yeah, more insignificance.

3. I am horrible at everything. The only thing I can do is converse in four different languages (French, Italian, American (Grandmere Clarisse says my English isn't English at all, but a bastardized version known as American) and German.

4. I have never been kissed. Despite the throne and the inheritance and the fact that I've had FOURTEEN YEARS to work at it.

I do not need to be taught my own insignificance by leaving my native land and spending four years in an American high school. Especially one in New York City. I mean, my God. Last month, when Dad told me we were going, I didn't actually believe him. I thought it was just Mom having one of her wig outs or something. She really misses living in New York. But, I mean, it's not possible for her to live there. She has too many responsibilities here. So I didn't think it was actually going to happen. I didn't think that Dad meant we were just going to go _without_ her. And now Marie, my lady in waiting, keeps trying to pack my stuff up into suitcases but I keep pulling them out again.

This is a disaster.

* * *

**More Friday, Royal Bedchamber**

Oh.

My.

God.

I just googled the school they want to send me to. SOMEONE WAS SHOT THIS MORNING ONLY FIVE BLOCKS FROM IT!!!!!!!!!!

I hate him.

I'm calling Aunt Lilly.

* * *

**Even More Friday, Royal Genovian Rose Garden**

I am seriously crying so badly right now, the royal guard is going to find me any second because of the noise. But I won't go back in there with those DESPOTS. I'll sleep out here if I have to. I don't care. It's summer. And there aren't that many bugs on account of the birds that come at this time of year. So, HA! to them.

But I can't believe it!!!!! This is so unfair! I should have a say in what I do with my life, I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm never speaking to them again. And I know that kids say that all time, but I really mean it. I'll be like The Nile in the dry season; virtually non-existent.

God, it was so horrible!

I need to breathe. I just need to breathe and write it all down.

BREATHE, DAMN IT!

In. Out. In. Out.

Okay.

So, after my previous entry, I called up Aunt Lilly on her work number. I had to go through like, two receptionists at the studio and four assistants until I finally got her. It was like 11PM New York time, but I knew she'd be in the studio because she's a total insomniac and has such an insatiable greed for the truth via ground breaking journalism, that she can't go to sleep at night without breaking at least one exclusive news story. Mom says that Aunt Lilly is neurotic and suffers from a rare and concentrated form of Asperger's Syndrome. But apparently Aunt Lilly is unaware of this and talking about it in televised interviews to the Genovian populace is not appropriate.

Anyway, our conversation went like this:

_Aunt Lilly: _(exasperated) Boris. I swear to God, if you call-

_Me: _Aunt Lilly? Is that you?

_Aunt Lilly: _What? Belle, is that you?

_Me: _Yeah. Who's Boris?

_Aunt Lilly: _(distractedly)No one. _Bart! Get that press release on the hostiles in Cuba, now!_ Listen squirt, I'm busy. Email me if you want to talk.

_Me:_ (close to tears) Oh no! This is important, Aunt Lilly! I need your help.

_Aunt Lilly:_ (voice slightly softened) What's happened? Has Clarisse finally died?

_Me:_ What? No. It's Dad. He's sending me away to an American high school. Some place called Trinity or whatever.

_Aunt Lilly:_ (exasperated again) Is that all? (distracted again) Well, really Bells. What do you expect? _Cuba! Cuba Bart! That's Columbia you great imbecile! Are you suffering from Broca's aphasia? _It's extremely important for your development that you spend time away from Genovia. You need to be in a place where you aren't treated like some kind of deity, a place where you will be capable of seeing the world for what it truly is. A cesspool. You need perspective. Don't worry, you'll be fine. See ya, squirt.

Then she hung up. That was a complete bust. I should have known she'd be on Dad's side. They did come from the same womb after all.

Anyway. I was even more upset after that conversation because that meant no one was in my corner except Grandpere. And whilst Dad will listen to Grandpere – unlike Grandmere Clarisse – he's never been intimidated by him in his life. It was time for some dramatic action. There was only one person who could manipulate Dad: Mom. So I went off to her and Dad's room where I knew she'd be sleeping off her jet lag after coming back from a summit in South Africa with Bono and some UN people. And sure enough, there she was, all curled up under the blankets with Tilly (the fattest cat you will ever see in your life because Mom's a bit obsessive compulsive about animals and their food intake. Tilly weighs twenty pounds. Dad reckons Mom had a cat when she was a girl that was even fatter than Tilly. Only he said that I shouldn't bring it up with Mom because she loved that cat more than life itself) asleep at the foot of the bed.

I stomped into the room and Mom woke up from the sound and all the natural light I'd let in the room. I pulled the fat quilt up off the bed and snuck in next to her. Then I proceeded to cry. Mom put her arms around me and hugged me and asked me what was wrong but that only made me cry more. Mom started getting really worried then. I could tell because she sat up and started taking my temperature with the back of her hand and stuff.

I suppose I can understand why she got freaked out. It was pretty horrible crying. You know the ugly kind where snot runs down your nose and your body practically convulses. Plus, when we kids get upset, we don't normally go to Mom. Not because we don't love her or because we think she won't care. But because she's always busy - ever since Grandpere abdicated. She's always abroad or in parliament because the current Prime Minister is hopeless or entertaining foreign dignitaries or something. And when she's home and not working, it's normally only for like a week at a time, and the first two days of that week are spent sleeping, and then the next day she spends with Dad (I asked her once what she did with Dad all day, and she went all starry eyed and said she just smelt his neck. My mom is weird. Though, now that I think about it that was probably code for … _sex_. Ew!) and then the next day she spends with Grandmere Clarisse and Grandpere and sometimes with Aunt Tina and Aunt Lilly if they're over. So, in the end that leaves about three days for us kids. Which might sound bad, but those three days are always the best, and they make up for her being away and we're never upset when she's around so, basically, she hardly ever sees us cry.

When we are upset, we go to Dad. And that normally works 'cause Dad is really, really smart and he knows how everybody thinks and he has this really calming voice. Like, all he has to do is tell you everything's going to be alright, and well, you believe it. But this time I couldn't do that, could I? Because Dad was the one causing the crying.

So. I'm lying there, crying like a baby rhinoceros would, and Mom's freaking out because she thinks I'm sick or something, when Dad walks in. He doesn't freak out or anything, 'cause Dad's not that kind of person. The freaking out kind, I mean. Mom says she's only seen Dad freak out once. When she was eighteen and some guy called Jay or something said something rude about her to the press a few days after she finished high school and Dad went psycho and punched him six times (Lars, the Head of Security (who used to be Mom's bodyguard), said later that he could've stopped Dad after the third punch but that this guy really deserved to be punched – especially by my dad).

So anyway, Mom and I are hunched up under the covers, a crying, freaky, mess with Tilly hissing at us because I accidentally kicked her and Dad just goes, "What's happened?"

Well.

His ignorance to the pain he was causing me was the last straw. I scrunched up my face and pointed at him accusingly, "_You're_ what's wrong!"

Mom let go of me then. "What do you mean? Michael, what's going on?"

"Do you know what he's doing? What he's planning?" I spat out.

Tilly jumped off the bed in disgust and flicked her tail, a sure sign that if anyone came near her in the next hour they'd get the stuffing scratched out of them. Dad though, finally caught on. He turned to Mom. "I told her about Trinity. She didn't take it as well as you'd hoped."

I spun around to Mom with my mouth agape. "YOU KNEW?"

She had the grace to look guilty. "Your father and I thought it would be best. This environment is not a good one for-"

"SO YOU'RE SHIPPING ME OFF TO SOME FOREIGN LAND FOR FOUR YEARS?"

"Foreign land?" Dad snorted. "We go there once a year."

"NOT FOR EDUCATION!" I turned to Mom. "I seriously can't believe you would do this to me. You're always going on about how horrible high school was and how everyone treated you like crap!"

"Well …" she shrugged. "That need you have to event drama in your life? You got that from me and well it really wasn't that bad. I wouldn't be the person I am now if it weren't-"

I jumped out of the bed then, my depression forgotten in my anger. "THEN YOU DEFINITELY SHOULDN'T HAVE GONE THERE BECAUSE ONLY A HORRIBLE, SELFISH, CRUEL PERSON WOULD SEND THEIR CHILD AWAY! _I HATE YOU!_"

I instantly regretted that little rant though because Mom's face went into this weird sort of shock and I knew she was about to cry. I didn't get a chance to see it though because Dad grabbed me by the arm and pulled me from their bedroom.

I shouldn't have said that to Mom, and I know it. But can you really blame me? I mean, they're asking me – no, _telling_ me – to leave everything I know and love behind in favor of an existence that even they'd claimed to despise. So that's why when Dad looked down at me with his eyes all full of anger and disappointment and he told me that I was never to talk to Mom like that again and that I was going to Trinity whether I liked it or not and that we we're leaving Sunday morning, I just glared at him and stalked off.

And so now, here I am.

Hating my parents.

I really _am_ part-American.

**PEOPLE I LOVE IN ORDER OF HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM:**

1.) Nicholas

2.) Emily

3.) Grandpere

4.) Uncle Rocky

5.) Tilly

6.) Aunt Lilly

7.) Grandma Thermopolis/Frank/Grandma Moscovitz/Grandpa Moscovitz

8.) Camille/Amelie/Pierre (my best friends)

9.) Aunt Tina (who I'm not actually related to, but whatever)

10.) Lars

11.) Grandmere Clarisse

12.) Daniel Radcliffe

13.) King William/Prince Harry (off the vodka)

14.) Hannah (Aunt Lilly's illegitimate child with that Brazilian soccer player, Ramon Riveria)

15,000.) Judith Gershner (that bitchy NASA scientist that called Dad a hack and Mom a slut)

160,000.) The concierge at the Hilton in Tokyo, who wouldn't let me up because I was wearing sweat pants.

17,000,000.) Mom

18,000,000,000.) Dad

And I refuse to feel even a little bit bad. They brought it on themselves.

* * *

**Saturday, August 29****th****, Pierre Clement's Bedroom, Clement Family Estate, Genovia**

Pierre and Amelie are _happy_ for me. They think it's _exciting_. They think my parents are _fabulous. _I think they are on _crack_. Only Camille saw the evil treachery of it all. She's been crying for like, three hours. This makes me feel better. To know I'll be missed. I pointed this out to Pierre and Amelie, but they were all, "Of course we're going to miss you. But I'm sure you'll come back over the summer and you _are_ going to reign one day, and then you'll be here all the time."

They so don't get it.

Amelie's mom did bring around some nice Bouillabaisse for me though – as like a parting gift. Only Pierre's spoodle, Louis the Seventeenth, got into it. And he didn't like the taste as much as the smell apparently 'cause he vomited it back into the dish.

Pierre wants me to take photos of American girls because apparently they are sluttier over there and this will make up for his father taking away his German porn magazine (which actually had some very interesting articles). I told him to buy another magazine off E-bay as I will be taking no pictures because come Monday, I will be The Nile. He just shook his head at me and gave me his copy of _Meridian 4.0_.

I have to say goodbye to them now because I have to go home and finish packing.

My life is over.

* * *

**Later Saturday, Royal Bedchamber**

I am all packed but I'm avoiding Mom and Dad so I went to the one place I knew neither of them would go: Grandmere Clarisse's room. She was getting botox injections right then so she couldn't speak. But after Sebastiano left she was being very abusive about Mom and Dad and this made me feel much better. She said that she's often felt that Dad bears a striking resemblance to Il Duce and that Mom has extremely misguided appreciations for the American lifestyle. She has promised to pressure them into changing their minds. Even when I'm actually in America.

It was starting to get late and I was really hungry but I couldn't go to dinner because _they_ would be there. Arnaud, the head butler, had already summoned me to dinner twice but I just keep scowling at him and pointing to the door for him to leave. I thought I'd just wait 'til everyone goes to bed and then I'd sneak down.

Emily is really excited about going. She's only nine though and so she makes and breaks friends as if they were episodes of a sitcom. Plus, she doesn't have to go to a SCHOOL. She still gets to be home-schooled like a normal royal. Nicky's excited too because you can't get McDonald's in Genovia. But Americans live off it. Nicky loves Happy Meals. It's all he'll eat when we are in France.

So anyway, Grandmere prattled on about Mom and Dad as she downed a Sidecar, trying hard not to spill it 'cause her face was so stiff. I really don't think it's a good idea for Grandmere to be getting all this botox all the time. Her skin doesn't really have any elasticity on account of her being about one thousand years old. But she's like, the vainest person in the world.

"Ah, that is better," she said, while looking in the mirror and drinking her Sidecar, admiring her new brick-like look. At least she's stopped smoking now. After the "lung-cancer rubbish" (her words, not mine) incident.

"Grandmere, are you coming with us to New York?"

She snorted. "Certainly not. Vile place. Besides, with your mother as busy as she will be, adding in all these trips to New York to see you all on top of her normal schedule, I will be needed here to entertain the dignitaries."

I held back a snort of my own. Grandmere Clarisse was not allowed alone with any of the dignitaries. It was more likely that Grandpere was going to semi come out of retirement and fill in for Mom. I mean, I love Grandmere Clarisse. She's so funny and she always has good schemes. But I wouldn't trust her with anyone of political importance.

"Whatever," I said.

She gave me the evil eye. "You are just like your mother."

I wish, Grandmere. I wish.

"Do not roll your eyes at me or I won't help you."

I made my face as passive as I could.

"Good. Now, the first thing you need to do is stop all this drama. Make them think you are accepting the decision. Because the problem is not your father, as you may have presumed. It is your mother." She sat down on her little settee, rather gingerly 'cause she's a million years old, and continued in her raspy voice. "Your father is a stubborn man, but he'll do anything for Mia. You change your mother's mind about this nonsense, and you will change his." Grandmere leant forward and pointed a wrinkly (because she's a billion years old) finger at me. "And you will not change your mother's mind if you keep being petulant. She will just think you need the change more."

"I dunno, Grandmere." The stuff about being petulant made sense. Though I wouldn't have put such a word to my distress, but whatever. The other stuff though, about using Mom to get to Dad, didn't really make sense. I'd seen Dad say no to Mom plenty of times. Like when she wanted to turn the East Wing into an animal shelter, and Dad said that it would be better if she just built a new animal shelter in the village. Or when she wanted to give a million euros to Marston Hefner (I still don't know why), and Dad said she should give it to Amnesty International instead. Or when she went shopping with Lana (her friend from school) in Monaco and they brought these skimpy bikinis (which isn't horrifying at all. Not) and she wanted to wear one to the Annual Genovian New Years on the Beach Party, and he told her that no one was seeing her in that but him.

So, yeah. I wasn't buying that.

"Pfuit!" was Grandmere's reply when I brought this up. "You will trust me. I know this man. I know what he has done for her."

"What has he done for her?"

Grandmere said nothing and I was going to push her for more when Arnaud came back and he was flanked by Dad, who looked very cross.

"Clarisse," Dad said, his brow furrowed. "Belle needs to come downstairs for dinner."

Grandmere didn't look at him but gazed at me significantly. "Very well, we are done here. Go, Belle."

So I sighed and walked downstairs to dinner. I didn't say anything to them. But I didn't stomp back to my room afterwards. Hopefully Grandmere's plan works.

* * *

**Sunday, August 30****st****, Royal Genovian Jet, Runway, Genovia**

It is ridiculously early. I am going to be _so_ tired when I go to school on Tuesday. Seriously, for a smart man my dad can be really dense sometimes. I mean, hasn't he heard of jetlag? I'm not even going to have time to settle in to the apartment. And why do we have to stay in an apartment? I don't care if it is a two storey, five bedroom, three bathroom apartment with a balcony. I like to live in _houses_ (or palaces, as it were) not _floors._

I'm having trouble writing clearly because Nicky's passed out on my lap. I mean, he's a SMALL CHILD. He should not be woken at ridiculously early hours and made to leave his native land in favor of AMERICA. I'm seriously considering writing a letter to the UN.

I was going to refuse to look at Mom when she was saying goodbye to us, but then I remembered what Grandmere said. I hope step two of her plan is easier to carry out than this one of not being petulant. Anyway, I kind of felt bad for Mom. She was trying really hard not to cry. Especially because Emily was beside herself. She's still crying a bit now. Luckily Nicky doesn't really get it. He will later though, when we arrive in New York and he realises that Mom isn't coming with us and that we've moved out of the palace without her. He is going to scream his little lungs off.

I have more immediate concerns though. The pilot is new. And he looked awfully young to me to be an experienced pilot. Not to mention the fact he seems to be rather impatient. We're still waiting for Paolo, my bodyguard, and Dad to get on.

Mom and Dad are probably saying goodbye. It's always like this. Obviously no one told the new pilot. Mom never wants to let Dad go. It's kind of sweet, really. How she starts crying and clenching his clothes and sometimes starts talking about him meeting better women and leaving her for them because she's not going to be there to scare them off (or have Goren, her bodyguard, do it for her). And then Dad is always like, "Never". And I mainly just feel like the world sucks because why can't someone love _me_ like that? Someone like Zac Efron. You know, when he was my age. Seriously though, it's been like ten minutes. I better look out the window to make sure Lars isn't holding Paolo up by threatening him with castration if anything happens to us. Like, I'm sure he got it the first time. Poor guy.

Oh.

No, Paolo's coming on now.

Mom's just crying _really _badly. I should probably be more sensitive to seeing one of my parents cry. If it were Dad I probably would be, in all honesty. But not Mom. Amelie said she saw her mom cry once and it scared her loads. But my mom cries a lot. Like, once a week. One time when I was six I fell down the stairs and broke my wrist and Mom cried more than I did. After the doctor braced my wrist, he had to give Mom a sedative. Dad thought it was hilarious. And she always cries at movies. Even the ones with happy endings. And she cries whenever Aunt Tina reads one of her tragic romance stories and then calls Mom to say that it was nice but unrealistic because love isn't real, it's an illusion. Aunt Tina hates romance novels because Aunt Tina has had a broken heart for ten years now. And then there was that time that she cried in front of J.K. Rowling because she never wrote anymore Harry Potter books. Dad laughed then too. He wasn't laughing now though. Possibly because Mom was gripping him so tightly she was probably cutting off all the blood to the lower half of his body. Mom is scarily strong. I once saw her carry Tilly, Nicholas _and_ Emily, all at once. That's like … a lot.

Gesh.

She's still going. Her head is practically attached to his neck.

And Lars is trying to ply her off Dad now.

Wow.

She hasn't been this bad since she went to Tokyo two years ago for three months and they weren't going to be able to see each other once in that time.

Oh.

Alright.

Lars got her off.

America here we come.

Can you feel the excitement?

Humph.

… _to be continued._

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**Author's Notes: **The list of "People I love …" is originally from PD7. Mia's quote is from PD1. Thanks to my beta, Kristin, who rocks my world.


	2. Volume Two: Which Welcoming Wagon?

**A LITTLE PRINCESS**

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"_You know, at the end of _Cinderella, _when Prince Charming finally finds her and puts the slipper on her foot and her rags change back into the ball gown and all the mice come out and start singing? That how I felt, just for a second." – HRH Amelia Renaldo_

* * *

Volume Two: Which Welcoming Wagon?

**Monday, 31****st**** August, My Bedroom, New Apartment in New York City**

Nicky's been crying for four hours and seven minutes. My skull has split open and I'm about to die.

* * *

**Monday Night, 31****st**** August, My Bedroom, New Apartment in New York City**

Okay, so I didn't die. But I am SO tired.

All the movers and our security detail have finally left for their own rooms so it's just us awake now. Well, just me and Dad actually. Emily and Nicholas just went to bed and I am seriously glad because I love my brother and it breaks my heart to hear him stressed out and upset like that. But I was like, THIS CLOSE to being all, SHUT UP, IT'S NOT THAT CRITICAL.

It went down just like I knew it would. We got out of JFK Airport and into the limo pretty quickly because we are royalty (and I don't mean to sound arrogant or whatever, but there are certain benefits and not having to spend hours queuing up in customs is one of them) and then we got into the apartment which was already furnished (for the most part) and then Nicky turns to Dad and asks, "Where's Momma?" Only he said it in French because he hasn't learnt English yet. Dad scooped Nicky up and said, "She's in Genovia. But she'll come and see us soon." His little face crumpled and he started bawling. Then I spent the next five hours playing Pass the Toddler with Dad while we got all our clothes and extra furniture sorted out. It was super fun! Only not.

My eyes are hurting a little from trying to force myself to stay awake. I wonder how long I can hold them open before I have to blink? Apparently men don't blink as much as women. I'm going to check how long I can hold my eyes open for so wait a moment, please.

…

Thank you for waiting. It was seven seconds. That doesn't seem like long? I'd try again but I'm starting to feel dizzy so I best get on with it.

Anyway, Em and Nicky are fast asleep now and Dad is on a conference call with all my grandparents, organizing a dinner for tomorrow night so that we can all catch up. Aunt Lilly and her illegitimate daughter with that famous Brazilian soccer player, Ramon Riviera, will be there as well. Hannah goes to Trinity High School too, so at least I'll know someone there tomorrow.

Isn't 'tomorrow' a funny word? TOO MORROW. TWO MAROW. TWO MARROW … I'm really tired.

I'm still furious with Dad and completely terrified about twomarrow, but I'm also jetlagged and I can barely write right now so I think I better go to bed because I'm starting to look at the words all funny like and everything seems a little surreal and I'm sort of not sure if I'm really here or maybe if ANY of us are here and you know what I don't know why I picked this room I should've gone for the pink one because Em wouldn't care and green ish dafntly nt me colore ooo wodrs gaw haha fsdf gfg heee nt wigh aw but wel byesssssssssssssss

* * *

**Tuesday Morning, 1****st**** September, Limo on the way to Trinity High School**

DISASTER!

Absolute and complete disaster! Why do these terrible things keep happening to me? It's not fair! What did I do? Is this a karma thing? Is it because of that time that I went to the Royal Genovian Zoo and Pierre threw an apple core at that monkey and hit it in the forehead and it looked around all grumpy-like with this expression on its face like _Who did that!_ and I laughed really loudly (we were seven) and then dobbed Pierre in to the Zoo Keeper when he came over to us and asked who threw the apple and Pierre got a lifetime ban? Perhaps it's because of that time we went to Versailles and I dared Amelie to jump into the creek by the chateau and she got that weird bug from the water that made her lose like, ten pounds and have to take these daily injections of adrenaline or penicillin or something? Or is it because of that time we were in Buckingham Palace and I told King William that I think he should dump the queen because she keeps making eyes at Prince Harry (I was twelve), and then I heard him and Queen Kate having this huge fight in the third floor drawing room and Kate kept going, "Ridiculous! Ridiculous!" and Will kept saying "Adulterer! Adulterer!" and then they were estranged for three months?

Disaster, disaster, disaster!

But wait. Why am I so mentally challenged? Maybe it's not that big of a deal. Paolo, my bodyguard, doesn't think it is. But I'm not convinced he's being entirely truthful because he keeps holding back a smirk as he says it. I am comical fodder for my Italian bodyguard. Awesome.

So this is what happened:

Dad came into my room to wake me up at like seven thirty and I was still at my desk, I'd fallen asleep there. I threw Mr. Georgie Pordgie (my teddy bear) at his head and called him a _schlumpe_. Which is German for slut. Only I don't actually remember doing this. It's just what Dad said I did when I woke up being carried to the kitchen, slung over his shoulder. I'm still pretty jet-lagged so I'll take his word for it.

He sat me down at the breakfast bar and handed me a cereal bowl of Special K. Em and Nicky were already digging into a plate of bacon and eggs. I'm sort of a vegetarian, like Mom. I say 'sort of' because we do eat meat sometimes. Like at state dinners or something. But generally we don't eat animals. Nicky and Em are complete carnivores though, like Dad.

I swished around my cereal and Dad told me that he was taking the kids to McDonald's today to keep them happy and help them forget that Mom's not here. It was a good plan, they were in a good mood during breakfast and Nicky seemed to have completely forgotten about his epic tantrum yesterday – though my head has not. Then suddenly, Em stops talking about whether she's going to get a Quarter pounder or a McChicken, and goes, "What's on its facies?"

My sister recently watched _The Lord of the Rings_. She completely misunderstood Gollum's role in the film and has taken a shine to him. In short, she speaks like Smeagol. Which is totally awesome and not embarrassing at all. Humph.

"What did you say?" I asked her.

She giggled and Nicky did too. "Its facies is blacksies."

I touched my cheek, but felt nothing and then turned to Dad. I met his eyes and they went a little wide and he stared at me for a moment. Then he walked over to me and took my chin in his hand and turned my head to the side. Then he did this thing he does when he's trying not to laugh. Where he purses his lips and clears his throat a lot.

"What pen did you use to write in your diary, my Belle?"

I squeaked in shock and ran to the bathroom. And I nearly fainted with what I saw. So. It looks like I fell asleep on top of my diary last night and I was using a fat, felt tip, black pen.

…

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God! THIS IS NOT OKAY. I have _ish dafntly not, hee nt wigh, byessssssssss _written all over the right side of my face. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until my face was bright red but it wouldn't come off.

I HAVE _IS DAFNTLY NOT HEE NT WIGH BYESSSSSSS_ WRITTEN ACROSS MY FACE IN BIG, BLACK, **AND APPARENTLY PERMANENT**, FELT PEN.

I'm applying foundation as I try to write and I'm pulling my hair to the side to try and cover it up because Dad wouldn't let me stay home from school. And when I asked if he could take me to the beauty clinic on Park for a face peel, he thought it was funny and he shook his head all like, "What am I going to do with you?"

YOU CAN START BY BOOKING AN EARLIER FLIGHT SO I'M NOT SO JET-LAGGED THAT I PASS OUT ON MY DIARY.

And you know what else, we are going to be at Trinity in like, two minutes and I need more time! New York traffic is so not as bad as movies and stuff make it out to be. I mean, I've been to Sydney. Now THAT'S traffic.

Paolo says you can barely see it at all anymore. That it would pass as an odd shaped bruise or something. He better be right or he'll be chasing me all over the Upper East Side because I will NOT be laughed at by Americans.

And that's final.

* * *

**Tuesday, 1****st**** September, Homeroom, Trinity High School**

This school looks like the Genovian Psychiatric Hospital. It's _very_ white_. _Sterile. And this girl that's sat herself next to me and hasn't shut up about how cool it is to have a princess at her school, is definitely a mental patient. I mean, she's wearing bright purple stockings and hairclips shaped liked birds. Which is _not_ part of the uniform and for good reason. And I know it's mean to judge people by what they wear and stuff, but it's weird. And if that weren't enough, she keeps talking about this _seriously_ old television show that's being remade. _Farsight _or something. No, wait. _Farscape. _It sounds lame.

I think Paolo agrees with me, if the look of long-suffering on his face is anything to go by.

Oh, and my Homeroom teacher is a young woman with a very large nose called Ms. Hougenbaum. Pronounced like, Hoogenboom. I'm not sure why, but upon announcing this to the class, there was a bit of a riot and she never got around to marking the role before the bell went and everyone started leaving. So I'm thinking I should keep quiet about one of my middle names being Mágalica. Pronounced like, Megalicker.

_People that have noticed my face has black pen stains:_ Possibly one. An older male student in the Administration Office sort of tilted his head to the side when I walked in, a confused look on his face. But perhaps he's just slow?

* * *

**Tuesday, 1****st**** September, English, Trinity High School**

The girl with the purple stockings and hairclips shaped like birds has a name. Naturally. It's Geraldine Vane. Which is kind of mean of her parents, if you ask me. She told me to call her Gerry, which I have no intention of doing. She followed me to P.E. which we had first period, and continued prattling on about things that I really didn't care about because we had to do this "beep test" thing in P.E. to test our fitness and I was concerned about sweating off my foundation. But I'm _uber_-competitive and knew I wouldn't be able to help myself. I get that from my dad's side of the family.

I managed to escape her during the beep test though. I squeezed myself in between these two blonde haired girls – one was very pretty, the other was kind of plain but she had rather large breasts and I instantly envied her – and the three of us were the last ones running. Geraldine was the second one to quit (after a rather large girl who made the two blonde girls snicker to each other) and having watched her run, I wasn't surprised. She was kind of un-coordinated.

After the test, Coach Crass, who seemed to have a much better knack for keeping students quiet than Ms. Hougenbaum, told everyone that they were dangerously unfit and could all expect heart-attacks within the next five years, except for me and the two blonde girls whose names were Bonnie Hoff (the pretty one) and Nina Berry (the breasty one). When Coach Crass said my name, the two girls looked at me and smiled brightly. Which they hadn't really done before knowing my name.

I'm sitting next to them now in English and we are meant to be writing what we did on the holidays. But Bonnie and Nina are writing notes to each other so I figure it's not important and I'm writing in my diary instead. Bonnie and Nina were nice to me on the way to class, asking me all these questions and telling me to say things in Genovian (I didn't bother telling them Genovians speak French). Bonnie is really, really pretty. Like kind of dazzling. Her hair is so shiny and perfect and so are her teeth. People only speak to her if she speaks to them first, and when she does speak, people listen to her really carefully. Like she's telling them the cure for all diseases.

Hold on.

Nina just passed me a note.

_Hey Belle,_

_We've decided it'd be a good idea if you had lunch with us! Yay! We heard you tell Geraldine Vane that you've never been to school before so we thought we'd let you know that you have nothing to worry about. We will totally take you under our wing, and you'll be popular and cool in no time! But there's a few things you need to know, okay? Now like, don't be offended or anything, but there are a few things that you really need to do if you want to hang with us, yeah?_

_You can't talk to or hang around Geraldine Vane or anyone else in this classroom apart from us two, Monique Brown (the black girl at the back) and James Tomlin (the guy next to Moni with the high cheekbones). People judge you by who you hang around, so this is like, the most important rule, okay? _

_You really need to get on either the Cheerleading Team, or failing that, the Rally Girls Squad. This is great school and you need to get involved! Plus, people will be more likely to know who you are if you are a Cheerleader or a Rally Girl. Plus again, we have heaps of fun! Try outs for the JV Cheerleading Team is after school in the gym, so make sure you're there._

_You need to stay slim and wear good clothes! You're nice and skinny (but not anorexic, which is good), but you need to work on your uniform. You look like everyone else and kind of plain. This isn't your fault though, because the dragon ladies at the Uniform Shop always go on about our strict uniform policy. But they're full of it. The teachers don't mind us jazzing it up as long as we don't get skanky or anything. _

_Don't be offended! You need to get better at applying make-up. You have way too much foundation on, especially on the right side of your face. Tomorrow, come to school early and meet us in the girl's locker room. Don't put any make up on and we'll do you up and show you what to do._

_Write back and tell us your dress size, your cell number, and where you live!_

_Byes,_

_Bonnie and Nina_

I'm not sure whether I should be pleased that they didn't notice the black on my face, or upset that I obviously look ridiculous with all this make up on. I don't think I should tell them why I went ape on the foundation this morning. I'm not sure if I can be bothered to do the things they want, but I've watched some American teen films and it's always seemed to me that girls like Bonnie and Nina have a better time at high school than girls like Geraldine. So I wrote back to them saying thank you and told them that I'm a size six and gave them my number and address. I also looked behind me to Monique and James, the other people in the class that it's okay to talk to. Monique raised her eyebrows at me but James didn't meet my eye. He was listening to music and drumming his pencil on the desk.

Nina gave a little, quiet clap after reading my reply and beamed at me. Bonnie looked satisfied and folded up my note, tucking it into her pencil case. Then she pulled out her exercise book and got to work. So I better do the same, I think.

_People that have noticed my face has black pen stains:_ Still just the guy from the Admin Office. Possibly.

_People that have noticed I'm an idiot with too much foundation on: _Everyone. And in fact, maybe that's why the Admin Guy stared?

* * *

**Tuesday, 1****st**** September, Ladies Room by the Cafeteria, Trinity High School**

I have to be quick because Nina said that I can't write in my diary outside of class. "In class," she said, "it doesn't matter because no one will know the difference between your diary and class crap. But if you do it in the caf or something, people will think you're weird."

I also wanted to get the vegetarian burger but Nina looked horrified when I stretched for it in the jet line (I think they called it a jet line?) and nodded her head to the Greek salad instead. This was fine but not exactly filling.

Nina and Bonnie led me to a table in the cafeteria where five other people were already sitting. I put my tray down a little nervously, very aware of my foundation issue, as Nina continued to explain the cafeteria social hierarchy. Though she didn't call it that because I don't think she's that bright.

"Basically, B two," she said, "anyone that sits in this corner of the room, is acceptable. And this," she continued, gesturing to the table we were sitting at, "is _our_ group."

Nina called Bonnie 'B' and she'd taken to calling me 'B two'. She thought it was hilarious and made some reference to a banana, but I had no idea what she was talking about.

"What about Monique and James?" I asked. They were sitting a couple of tables down from us, but still in the designated "acceptable" section.

"They're not in _our_ group," Nina explained. "But they're perfectly acceptable people to hang out with. Like, if you're in a class that no one from _our_ group is in, you can sit with one of them. And if we have a party or something, we'd invite them."

"But they're not one of us?"

"Exactly!"

"Okay," I said, and played with my salad a little nervously. It's strange how these people intimidate me, but I have no problem speaking to a room full of foreign dignitaries and royalty.

"Introduce the others," Bonnie instructed Nina.

"Oh!" Nina sat up and gestured to the girl directly opposite me. "This is Claire van Arnett. Her sister's the Varsity Cheerleading Captain, Candice van Arnett. Over there."

I looked over to an attractive senior girl, surrounded by other cheerleaders and lots of boys. She was laughing and texting on her phone. I looked back at Claire. There was a definite resemblance. They both had chestnut brown hair and large green eyes. Claire gave me a smile and handed me her cell phone. I stared at it a moment before taking it uncertainly. I already had a mobile.

"Um, thanks?"

She laughed out loud at me and the other six joined in. I could feel myself go red and for a moment I was glad that I had so much foundation on. They might not be able to see my blush.

"Silly, I want you to put your number in my phone!"

"Oh!"

I am such a tool. Like, seriously.

I put my number in and handed it back.

"These bad boys," Nina moved on with flirty grin, "are Liam and Callum Cooper." They were tall and broad shouldered twin boys, not particular good looking but I could tell they were rich. Like _really _rich. And I don't mean to sound superficial at all, because I don't judge people by how much money they have. But I come from money, obviously, and the kind of society I'm usually exposed to also have money, so I'm good at spotting the very wealthy or the very powerful. I could tell the Cooper twins came from a lot of money. The same way I could tell Bonnie was powerful.

They nodded their head towards me in acknowledgement and passed their phones over, before going back into their own conversation. They had a bit of nasty look about them, I won't lie. Not like they were murderers or something, but that they just weren't very nice people.

"This," Nina said, her grin going from flirty to positively seductive, "is my boyfriend, Grant Hall." He smiled at me and it was the first genuine one I'd got from this group, so I couldn't help but smile back broadly at him, "Welcome to Trinity," he said, handing over his phone.

"_My _boyfriend," Nina repeated quietly, looking at me pointedly, all smiles and friendliness gone. Then suddenly she was bubbly again and moved on to the last boy, who looked much older than the others.

"Jonathan Trent," Nina said. "We all call him 'Jace' though. And he's a junior. And Bonnie's boyfriend."

I was a little crushed to hear that Jace was taken by Bonnie – who I could never compete with – as he was kind of gorgeous. Well, actually a lot gorgeous. He was very tall and burly, with a nice smile and blazing blue eyes and for a moment I had this ridiculous fantasy that I wasn't an idiot that had never been kissed, but that I was someone Jace would like. The moment didn't last.

"Jace doesn't always sit with us," Nina continued. "Only sometimes."

He must have known we were talking about him because he turned and met my eyes. And then he smiled at me and I was really thankful for my foundation idiocy again, because I would have been beet red. Seriously, my heart completely stopped.

When did I become such a fan girl?

Anyway, he turned away – without giving me his phone, bummer – and we ate lunch and just talked about what everyone did over the summer. Well, I talked with Nina and Claire, the twins and Grant talked, and Bonnie and Jace talked. Our conversations never overlapped. Still, despite that weird incident with Nina earlier over the "_my _boyfriend" thing, as lunch went on, Nina and Claire seemed to become a little more sincere with me, which helped me to be and I told them about Pierre and Amelie and Camille, and how upset I was to leave Genovia. They wanted to know what it was like to be a princess. I told them it was like being anyone else, except sometimes I dressed in gowns and went to balls, and I had a security detail.

"Yeah," said Claire, looking over my shoulder to Paolo who was standing against the cafeteria wall, texting on his phone. "I noticed him. He follows you everywhere?"

"Pretty much," I said.

"Like you're Miley Cyrus or something," Nina said, "it's cool."

Suddenly I felt a sharp smack on the back of my head.

"Ow!" I said, turning around. It was my cousin, Hannah Moscovitz (Aunt Lilly gave Hannah her name when her father, Ramon Riveria, said he didn't want a baby. Of course, upon actually meeting Hannah, he completely changed his mind but it was too late and Aunt Lilly had already got sole custody. She did agree to let Ramon see Hannah every other weekend. I'm not allowed to talk about it with Hannah or any of the Mosocovitzes though, because they all have different opinions and it will cause a fight. At least according to Dad).

Hannah was surprisingly pretty. I say surprisingly because Aunt Lilly's a little odd looking. Kind of … pug-ish. But Hannah seems to have gotten the _other_ side of the Moscovitz gene. The same one my dad got. That gene, mixed with the Riveria blood had had a rather devastating effect. I think Hannah is as pretty as Bonnie, but in a different way. She was a little on the short side, but curvaceous with dark eyes and dark hair.

"What are you doing over here with the Barbie dolls?" Hannah asked me loudly. Only she said it in French so they didn't understand.

"Hello to you too," I replied in kind, though I couldn't help but smile at her. I stood and hugged her and she hugged me back. I sat back down and noticed Bonnie looking at Hannah a little coldly and Jace was pointedly looking in the opposite direction.

"You're coming to dinner tonight, yeah?" I asked Hannah, still speaking French.

"Of course, I haven't seen Uncle Michael in ages." My dad and Hannah have always had this weird bond. I heard Mom say once it's because Dad is the only male Aunt Lilly thinks well of, and _speaks_ well of.

"Great," I said.

"Listen, Bells," Hannah said, "be careful of these girls, yeah?"

"Okay," I said, and Hannah nodded her head and walked away. I wasn't really sure what Hannah meant about being careful with these girls, but it was nice to see her all the same. It was odd that she hadn't stayed to chat. Normally we could talk to each other for hours.

"How do you know Hannah Moscovitz?" Nina asked.

"You are an ignoramus," said Liam or Callum. I can't tell them apart yet.

"Hey!" Grant said in defense of his girlfriend. "Don't be rude."

Liam or Callum ignored Grant and went on, "Who is Hannah's mother, Nina?"

"Lilly Moscovitz, obviously," Nina answered.

"And who," Liam or Callum continued, "is Lilly Moscovitz's brother?"

"That hot prin- … oh!" she turned to me and laughed. "_Your _dad is Hannah's uncle!"

I nodded my head. "Is that a problem?"

Everyone went quiet and looked away. Then Jace got up suddenly, kissed Bonnie on the cheek, and walked away.

Nina turned to me and said in a very strained whisper, "I'll tell you later."

Anyway, Claire's calling out to me and asking why I'm taking so long, I better go.

* * *

**Tuesday, 1****st**** September, Limo on the way home from school, Trinity High School**

I am so buggered. As Sam Worthington would say. Though he'd probably add the 'f' word in there somewhere. Seriously. I am so tired. I hope school isn't always this full on. And I have all this _homework_ to do. I mean, doesn't that defeat the purpose of school? It's like, now I'm doing school _and_ home-schooling. It's _tre _unfair.

After lunch I had Biology. Neither Bonnie nor Nina were in my class so I was a little worried when Mr. Calvin told us to pair up for the term (Geraldine was in my class but she hadn't tried to speak to me since P.E.). But just like Nina said, and without any prompting on my part, James Tomlin came and sat next to me. "What's up?" he said.

"Nothing much," I replied. "You?"

"All good, all good. So, are you any good at science?"

I am actually. But I didn't want to say so and sound up myself. "I do alright."

"Cool," he said. "I need to keep my grades up."

I studied his face. When I first looked at him, back in English, I thought he looked like a bit of slacker. He wore his clothes baggy and casually and his ear was always fixed to his iPod. But looking at him properly, I saw real intellect in his face. I was relieved actually. The way Mr. Calvin was talking, we'd have to rely on our lab partners a lot and I wouldn't have enjoyed doing all the work.

"I like your accent by the way," he said, pulling his books out. It wasn't a come-on. Though I don't know how I knew that. Must have been one of those instinct-things Mom talks about. "You speak English fine, but there's a French accent in there. It's cool."

I wasn't sure how to respond so I just smiled. We didn't talk much the rest of class. Mr. Calvin showed us around the laboratory and told us how to use the Bunsen burners and stuff. Then he gave us a pop quiz that we did in pairs on the periodic table. James seemed pleased that I knew most of the elements.

When the bell rang for next period, James gave me a friendly smile and said, "Catch." I wasn't sure what he wanted me to catch, but I nodded my head at him anyway.

Bonnie and Nina were in my next class and I stayed with them for the rest of the day. I found out that I was right about Nina; she wasn't very bright at all. But Bonnie was smart and let her copy all her work. They seemed to have a routine in class that I was invited to join. Basically, they spend the first half of the class, passing notes and texting. They wrote about their boyfriends or upcoming parties or weekend shopping trips and sometimes they said some scathing things about other students. Sometimes those scathing things were kind of funny and I couldn't help but laugh. Then I'd hear my mom's voice in my head, saying that there is no such thing as a good joke when it's at the expense of others. Thinking of my mom made me think about how I'd just been ripped away from the bosom of Genovia against my will and it started to make me angry. Until I realised I said "the bosom of Genovia" and I to stifle some serious giggling.

The second half of the lesson, Bonnie and I would quickly do the class work that the teacher had assigned, and Nina would copy off one of us. It seemed to be an effective way to pass the time, if not very educational to Nina.

At the end of school, Bonnie and Nina took me to the cheerleading try-outs. They were both really excited about it and also seemed really confident. Claire was there too and I saw her speaking to her sister, Candice. I wasn't really sure I actually wanted to be a cheerleader. They wore seriously skimpy outfits and I have no breasts and I don't like revealing my stomach. But I didn't really see a way out of it without upsetting Bonnie and Nina who had been so nice to me.

"Have you ever done anything like cheerleading before?" Nina asked.

"Sort of," I replied, unsure of what to admit to. I'd never cheered before, but I'd seen plenty of it in movies and at sports games. And Grandmere had made me do jazz ballet from the age of three to like, two months ago. She said my mom was an awful dancer when she was my age and she was determined that I not be as bad.

Still, I was nervous, changing into my sports uniform. There were about fifty freshman girls trying out and I was sure that they'd all be better than me. I tentatively told Claire that and Bonnie overheard and scoffed.

"Half of them are too ugly or too fat. Don't worry, if you can learn the routine fine, you'll get on."

Out in the hall, the varsity cheerleaders were waiting.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Candice van Arnett began. I looked around at the girls, trying to find the ugly or fat ones that I was apparently already better than. But none of them looked ugly or fat. "Welcome to the JV cheerleading tryouts. Some things you need to know. At Trinity High School, school rules dictate that there is an even number of sophomore and freshman girls on the team. The six sophomores were chosen last semester, so we're only taking six of you today. Katie will show you the routine; you'll have an hour to learn it. We'll make our decision and post the results on the Freshman Notice Board tomorrow morning." Nina gave a little squee beside me and I stifled a laugh. "Understand as well, cheerleaders are not just eye-candy for the football team," Candice said with a strange smirk and a few girls laughed. "We are _dancers _and school leaders. So give it your all, ladies."

The eye-candy comment threw me a bit, but then music started playing and a red-haired senior, presumably Katie, began taking us through the routine. It was easy and I picked it up quickly, as did Bonnie, Nina and Claire. Claire was a good dancer too; she had an interesting flair in her movements. Jean Renault, my dance teacher in Genovia, would have loved her. He used to always say to me, "Oh, BELLA. You need to dance with HEART. Where IS your HEART? Where Bella, WHERE?"

My reply was usually, "My heart is in my ribcage and my name is Belle." He'd shake his head all sorrowfully, and be like, "What can I do? What can I do to make you see?"

Some people take dance way too seriously if you ask me. Anyway.

The dancing wasn't the difficult part, it was the yelling. It was kind of stupid and I was self-conscious about my accent. But I heard Nina shouting unabashedly at the top of her lungs beside me, and every now and then she'd pull a funny face at me and by the end of the hour I relaxed and started having a good time.

We did our final performances in groups of ten and my competitiveness began to kick in. Nina, Claire and I were in the first group to perform and the three of us performed in the front. Bonnie told us we were all really good and that the other girls in our group looked like crap in comparison. Which was a harsh assessment but encouraging nonetheless. Bonnie went next and she was the stand out in her group as well. Though I think it might have had more to do with her general appearance, which was hard to ignore, rather than her dancing ability.

After try-outs we waited outside the school to be picked up. Nina had us all in stitches when she impersonated one of the girls who tried out who wasn't very good and had fallen over. For the first time in four days, I actually felt kind of happy.

Even though I'm furious at my mother and father, annoyed at my brother and have black ink all over my face and way too much foundation on.

Plus, I think I'm going to be a cheerleader. Well, Claire thinks I'll get in, anyway. And if anyone would know, it'd be her, I'd say. Despite what Hannah says, I think these girls are kind of cool.

I hope I'm not wrong.

* * *

… _to be continued._

**Author's Notes: **Thank you to **AbundantFear**, my beta. The opening quote is from PD2.


End file.
